


i want you to know that my feelings are true

by SmittyJaws



Series: you're my best friend [4]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Drama, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Happy Ending, ace!Deaky, ace!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 11:53:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17848952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmittyJaws/pseuds/SmittyJaws
Summary: You and John want to get married, but you still have a few hurdles to get past before you can have a happy ending.Based off of more of the ace!Deaky x ace!Reader headcanons by the lovely @glamrockmonarch on Tumblr.





	i want you to know that my feelings are true

**Author's Note:**

> Series notes: As always, I want to thank: @glamrockmonarch for her kickass headcanons, and @brian-may-likes-dust for putting up with all of my live-texted updates and spitballing ideas/shitposts for the fic xD you’re stellar, and I love you both 💜💜💜
> 
> Very slight AU, mostly in that this story assumes asexuality is more visible/discussed in the 70s (still stigmatized much like any deviation from “standard” heterosexual relationships though), but otherwise not much else is different aside from my lapses in memory regarding other historical information. Fic title is taken from the lyrics to You’re My Best Friend.
> 
> \--
> 
> [Fic notes: I planned on this story being a lot more fluffy to compensate for part 3′s rollercoaster of angst, and while I think I achieved that, this still got a bit more sad/dramatic at parts than I had originally intended. Ah well - it all turns out okay in the end. :D Makes references to events that take place in part 3, as the timelines overlap a bit at the beginning. Also, I fiddle with the timeline of the headcanons a little, so you might notice a bit of a change for the anniversary section. On another note: ALL-TIME WORDCOUNT HIGH!! HOLY FIC LENGTH, BATMAN :D Thanks for reading!]

John seems nervous lately. You’re not sure why; he knows he has no reason to be about you and the status of your relationship. After all, you’ve expressed on multiple occasions how much you’d be happy to spend your life with him, you both live together already, and you even got a cat (well, that was more your decision than it was his, but he’s grown to love the little kitten you’ve affectionately named Bean), which is something people don’t usually do if they don’t plan on committing. You wonder if it’s perhaps because he’s a perfectionist and he wants to make sure he does it right when he proposes? After all, God knows he’s spent long enough scraping together enough money to buy an engagement ring.

He hasn’t actually _told_ you he’s been saving for one, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize he’s cutting back on the money he spends on small things here and there. Not enough to be overly obvious, but enough that you notice. (Knowing the way he is, you know he wouldn’t have accepted any help from the others or his parents either, insisting it was something he needed to do for himself.) And now, months later, that amount of blood, sweat, and savings he’s poured into buying the ring have paid off, and it’s currently hidden at home.

You don’t know any of this, though - he tells you later that he had to be tricky about it. He couldn’t put it in his sock drawer, as you did a lot of the laundry given his odd performance and recording schedules. He managed to hide it in the back of his false/“spare” amp, as he knew you’d never look there (you claimed you didn’t want to risk messing anything up with any of his musical equipment). So it’s not like you don’t know a proposal is coming, but you just have no idea when or how. 

——

In the meantime you’ve had more pressing matters to focus on. Your first anniversary is coming up, and given the way you’ve been agonizing over John meeting your family, you had almost forgotten the date altogether. Even though you’ve recently told him the truth about why you haven’t wanted him to meet them yet, you’re still relatively torn over wanting him to meet them for his own sake (and so your parents will finally stop asking), and not wanting to subject him to the test of endurance that is your family’s opinions. Maybe doing something nice with John to celebrate one year of being together will be enough to bolster your confidence to arrange a visit in the future. 

Money is tight (as it has been for a while) so you’re not entirely certain about how you feel about the present you’ve gotten John. You know he’ll understand, but that doesn’t stop you from wishing you could do more, especially when you’ve only recently stopped putting him off meeting your family with the pitiful excuses. John deserves so much better than what you’ve been giving him over this past year, so it would be nice to at least give him a nice gift to make up for it taking you far too long to be fully truthful with him. You know you’ll have to split the limited amount of funds you have between his present and dinner though, so you figure being able to eat is a decent enough trade off for not being able to spend more on John. 

You’ve been putting things together most of the day; from the moment John’s left to go to class and band rehearsal after, you’ve been running around trying to make the most of the hours you have on your own. Bean wants to play, and you have to spend more time than you’d like to admit detaching her from your jeans every time she latches on to your pant leg. You eventually tie a piece of yarn to a cupboard door handle and watch her flail around attacking it while you go about trying to finish mixing the ingredients for the cake you’re making. 

When it gets closer to the time John’s supposed to be coming home, you have a quick shower and get changed into the dress he gave you for your last birthday, knowing how much he loves to see you wearing it. Given how tight money has been, you know it means the world to him whenever you’re wearing or using something he’s gotten for you. You opt to not do much with your hair besides brushing out tangles, as you figure the heat in the kitchen will dry it off for you while you make dinner. You’ve been listening to some LPs while you work, singing along and dancing as best you can in the limited space (being mindful of hot surfaces and knives, of course) while Bean is still somehow entertained by the piece of yarn. 

You’ve just changed over the record to one of yours and John’s shared favourites: My Generation, and you’re caught up in the music, grooving along to _Out In the Street_ and putting the finishing touches on dinner when you hear a chuckle from behind you. You turn around, a big smile on your face as you take in the incredibly happy and content look on John’s. It’s clear he’s been watching you work for a bit, just enjoying the sight of you having fun. You walk over and wrap your arms around John’s waist, holding him close as he does the same to you, just looking at each other for a moment before he leans in and kisses your nose, making you giggle. “Happy anniversary, love. Can you believe it’s already been an entire year?” he says, still holding you close and looking at you as though you’ve hung the stars themselves. 

“Happy anniversary to you too, Deaky.” You beam right back at him as you push some errant strands of hair away from his face. “It doesn’t feel real, does it? It feels like the time’s just flown by, honestly. We’ve had ups and downs, but I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.” Anything further you might have said is interrupted then by John’s stomach growling, and he goes red at that and apologizes, saying he had forgotten how hungry he was. You just laugh because your stomach chooses that moment to do the same, so you finish laying out the food so you can eat. 

Over dinner, you both talk about things you’d like to do in the future, especially with final school exams for the year coming up and the band seeing some movement in their popularity. John’s only brought up the topic of marriage once, a couple of months ago during your big fight, but you know it’s on his mind as it has been on yours since then. Your mind drifts off briefly and you wonder when he might propose, but you don’t dwell on that for too long and take yourself back to the present, reminding yourself that he really should meet your family first (and you his) before that happens. Once you’ve finished and you’ve cleared away the dishes, you move into the sitting room to exchange gifts. John insists that you open his first, pulling out a small bag from behind the sofa.

He apologizes for the lack of wrapping paper, but you assure him it’s not a problem. You open up the bag and find several old history textbooks, and you can feel your eyes lighting up as you flip through the books. They’re a bit dog eared and clearly used, but you love them regardless as these were texts from courses you hadn’t been able to take for your degree - Music History, Art History, and the like. You look up to see John watching you with anticipation on his face, and he grins as you launch yourself at him to wrap your arms around him, thanking him profusely for the gift. He ducks his head shyly and says he wishes he could have gotten you more, but when he saw the university preparing to toss a whole bin of books to replace them with newer editions, he immediately claimed the History ones knowing you’d like them. You beam and tell him that these are lovely and you couldn’t have asked for more. 

You want to keep reading the books, but you know you need to give John his gift. You pull out the small box you’ve wrapped up in newspaper (you had nothing else to wrap it in, and you figured something was better than nothing) and hand it to him. He tears the paper off and opens it to reveal a ring with a large black stone set on it. “You proposing to me now, love?” he teases. “I think we’re going about this all wrong.” You just roll your eyes good-naturedly at him. “No, I saw it at a pawn shop and thought it looked like something you might wear; I know you don’t like big flashy jewelry.” You smile at him. 

However, there’s a slight snag - the ring doesn’t fit anything but his pinky. “Damnit,” you curse as you watch John put it on. “I could have sworn I was better at estimating sizes for that than this. I’m sorry, Deaky.” John just smiles as he adjusts the ring where it now sits on his right pinky. “That’s alright; it’s perfect, really. This way I can wear it when I play and it won’t get in the way of the bass strings. I love it, thank you!” You’re still a bit hesitant about whether he really likes it, but John reassures you that he does like it and that he appreciates that you found something that fits his style. “Maybe now Freddie will slow down on trying to convince me to wear some of his gaudier pieces.” John laughs and you can’t help but agree with him; Freddie _does_ have a knack for trying to ensure that everyone around him looks as fashionably stunning as he does (including you on occasion). 

For the rest of the evening, you’re happy just to sit around curled up on the sofa with John and look through the old Music History textbook, and he seems to be enjoying it just as much as you are. You catch him glancing up at you on more than one occasion, a look of complete love and contentment on his face. Every time you notice his looks, he quickly turns back to the book as if to pretend he hasn’t been unashamedly drinking in the sight of you so excited about the books he’s given you, and how happy you’ve been tonight. You lean over to press a kiss to his temple one such time and resist the urge to poke fun at how ridiculously sweet he looks as he blushes at the attention, because you’re sure that there’s probably a similar look on your own face. Moments like these are enough to make the cares and stresses of the outside world disappear (if only for a little while), and you treasure every moment.

——

Your anniversary has come and gone; over the following few weeks, it’s a pretty eventful time as you end up arranging the meeting with your parents (and subsequent disaster that you most certainly did _not_ plan), and meeting John’s parents. You’re not entirely sure sometimes what the plan is for the future, as you know John’s still a bit moody on occasion over the fact that you’ve basically chosen to alienate yourself from your family on his behalf, but he also does want that commitment to you. You don’t push the matter, knowing that it’ll happen when he’s ready, but sometimes you do wonder. 

One morning, you wake up to find John lying in bed facing you, his arm around your waist as he watches you yawn and blink away the fog of sleep. “Morning, love,” he murmurs softly. “Morning, sunshine,” you respond back, smiling sleepily at him. “Surprised to see you still in bed,” you observe as you pull yourself closer to John, reveling in the warmth of his body in the cool of the spring morning. “I know you like to get an early start on things.”

“Felt like spending some time with you instead.” He smiles as he kisses your forehead. “Now come on - I’ve got the morning off from band business, and I have something I want to do with you during that time.”

“Oh?” You’re intrigued now, but not enough to get moving out of your nest of warmth where you’ve tucked yourself up against John. You’re enjoying this moment of comfort when John suddenly flips the blankets off you both with one smooth movement. You let out a bit of an undignified shriek at the feel of the cold air while John just smirks. “Yes, now come on. We don’t have much time, and even though Freddie tends to run late, I know if I do this afternoon he’ll still give me hell.” He gets up and pulls the curtains open, letting the bright early morning sunshine in to prevent you from attempting to sleep anymore, and all but drags you out of bed despite your protests about getting up so early and not having been suitably dosed with caffeine yet. He doesn’t let up from gently but firmly herding you over to the loo until he’s sure you’ve gotten moving and in the shower (he may have had to lure you with the promise of coffee afterward before you move in earnest, though).

As you get dressed, you can’t help but wonder what all the fuss is about - John seems to think this is rather important. Perhaps it’s some band news? They’ve been doing more shows lately and traveling more, as well as putting in more studio hours to try and re-record some tracks that the record label apparently isn’t happy with (you’ve heard plenty of complaints from the entire band about this). Whatever it is, if John thinks it’s important it must be. You finish getting ready so you can head out and find out what this news might be. When you leave the bedroom, John’s dressed and waiting for you in the sitting room, idly flipping through a magazine Freddie had left here on his last visit, Bean curled up in a little ball beside him on the sofa. The image is adorably domestic and you can’t stop the fond smile that creeps onto your face at the sight of them together. 

John looks up at your approach, and sees you watching him. “What’s got you so happy all of a sudden?” he teases as he stands up carefully, trying to not disrupt the sleeping kitten. “Last time I saw you, you were threatening bloody murder for being pulled out of bed so early.” He makes a gesture towards the door of the flat as he speaks, indicating that he’s ready to head out. He’d told you earlier that you were going on a bit of a walk, and you’re still in the dark about where you’re actually going (besides the fact that coffee is definitely involved).

Your face goes red, but that doesn’t dampen your smile as John approaches, a small smile of his own on his face. “Just you. And Bean. You two looked so adorable together; I wish I’d had a camera.” Now it’s his turn to go a bit red before he takes your hand and you start walking to the door together. “Would have made a better photograph if you’d been in it. You’re the one with the looks in this relationship,” he jokes. You just roll your eyes and jab your elbow into his side lightly as John fiddles with his keys to lock up after you. “Oh come off it, Deaky. We both know you’re the prettier one here. The whole band has heard Freddie going on about how glamorous and fashionable you look compared to Brian’s lack of taste in anything besides ‘boring professor togs’ and Roger’s inability to find a shirt that actually covers his chest.” 

“Freddie says that about everyone who lets him make decisions about their clothes, though.”

“True.” You concede, having seen firsthand how effusive Freddie’s compliments can be when he’s pleased with his fashion meddling. “But he still gives you the most compliments. I think that makes you the prettiest.”

John looks thoughtful at that, then responds with a knowing look. “I think if we’re basing merit off of compliments from Freddie, then neither of us is the prettiest.” He leans in conspiratorially and stage-whispers: “It’s Bean. She’s the good looks, and therefore responsible for holding our otherwise ugly household together.”

You cant stop giggling at that joke as you walk down the street.

——

John ends up taking you to a small cafe that you had no idea existed so close to your flat, but you know you’ll definitely be coming back here in the future - the coffee doesn’t taste burnt, and they actually have freshly baked goods that remind you so much of your own mother’s baking that you’re hit with an unexpected wave of nostalgia. Given how much everything has changed regarding your relationship with your parents in the last few years (especially in the past few weeks after the Chelmsford debacle), those memories of when life was simpler and your parents were happy with you brings up a lot of emotions you thought you’d gotten over and almost brings a tear to your eye, but you’re able to push past it. You’re here with John now, and that’s the past - no sense dwelling on what your parents won’t let you have anymore when you can enjoy what you do have now. 

You end up getting two coffees and a few biscuits and spend some time chatting together at the table you’ve chosen outside in the sunshine. It’s relatively quiet in the cafe, as most people are either in bed or at work, and there’s only 2-3 other people around. You’re making idle small talk while you wait for John to bring up what it is that he was so focused on this morning, but you can tell he seems a bit preoccupied. Perhaps it’s not good news? You frown a bit before dismissing the thought - John would have been a lot more somber if it wasn’t something favourable.

You’re brought back to the present as John draws your attention to a particular piece of old architecture nearby and asks some random question regarding the era it was built in. You raise your eyebrows slightly and ask John to repeat the question, as this is coming out of nowhere. He dutifully repeats the question, but doesn’t sound very sure about what he’s saying and has gone a bit red by the end of the sentence. You’re not so blind as to miss that this seems like an obvious distraction from what John really wants to say, but decide to humour him and look over at the structure he wants you to see. 

You’re about to start rattling off an explanation and go into what Roger and Freddie have titled “full Brian mode” (due to the amount of information you can relay back and the inevitable tangents you get caught up in due to your fascination, to which Brian just glares and flips them a two-fingered salute) when you hear movement beside you. You turn back to the table to see John on one knee beside the table facing you, reaching into his jacket pocket. You watch as he pulls out a small box and your hands come up to your mouth as you gasp quietly. Your mind is whirling as you try to process the fact that this is finally happening! He’s proposing!

Looking very nervous, John starts speaking: “I know we’ve only been together for a bit over a year, but I can’t think of anyone else that I want to spend my life with. You’ve been with me for good times and bad already, and I’d like to share more of these with you in the years to come.” He opens the box, revealing the engagement ring inside - not extravagant, but lovely nonetheless, the small stones sparkling in the sunlight. “Would you do me the honour of becoming Mrs. Deacon?”

You’re speechless. You hadn’t expected John to make a gesture like this, as you know how much he likes his privacy and is uncomfortable with large public displays. Even though the cafe is nearly empty and it doesn’t look as though anyone has noticed what’s going on, you still know how much this means for John to do something like this for you. You can’t stop your eyes from tearing up with the sheer emotion of the moment; caught off-guard and so incredibly happy. You realize that John’s still waiting for an answer, so you nod your head enthusiastically, not trusting your voice right now. You lean forward, wrapping your arms around where John is still kneeling next to the table, crying tears of pure unbridled joy into the shoulder of his jacket. “I love you,” you manage to choke out between the tears as you cling to John and he holds you. “So incredibly much.”

“And I love you,” John responds warmly, smiling as he moves away from your hold on him to retrieve the ring from the box and put it on your finger. You try to wipe at your eyes to get a better look at the ring ( _your_ ring!) where it now rests on your hand, but end up looking back at John before too long. You’re admiring the view of the look of happiness on his face (that you know is mirrored on yours) when John cups your cheek and unexpectedly leans in and kisses you. It’s not a deep passionate kiss by any stretch; just a gentle brush of his lips against yours. It doesn’t have to be passionate for it to be meaningful though; for John to actually initiate a kiss despite his usual discomfort with doing so is monumental, and you can feel the sheer amount of love in that small gesture. Your heart is pounding as he pulls away, and you’re both grinning like absolute idiots for the rest of the morning, so happy with each other and that the proposal is now official. 

Even John’s inevitable departure for band rehearsal can’t dampen your mood, and you spend the rest of the day on Cloud Nine (you have never been so grateful that it’s a day off from work, because you know you would have been utterly useless today after that news). When John comes home later on, you spend the rest of your evening together dancing to one of your slower jazz records, and reading in bed together, cuddled up close. “So tell me - was the early morning worth it, love?” John jokes as he leans over to turn off the bedside lamp before shuffling closer to you in the bed. “Mmm. Definitely worth it,” you hum contentedly, pressing a soft kiss to an exposed spot on his neck between sections of his hair as you wrap your arm over him. “Love you,” you murmur as you feel yourself succumbing to sleep, tired and happy from the events of the day. “Love you too.” John sounds like he’s pretty close to falling asleep himself as he whispers back in response, and you both drift off, happy with the promise for love and companionship for the rest of your lives.

——

When you tell the rest of the band, they’re ecstatic for you both, though they don’t seem very surprised. You assume either John had already told them about his intentions, or (far more likely) someone had accidentally found out and coerced him to talk about it. Most likely Freddie, given how much he loves the two of you together as a couple. Not that you ever doubt John’s love for you, but some days you’re sure that Freddie is more in love with your relationship than even you and John are. He seems to think that the two of you are some kind of fairytale romance come to life and as such, throws all effort possible into ensuring your happiness and success. It’s rather sweet, really - he looks out for you both, and you’re honestly not sure sometimes where you’d be without his support about being ace, or where John would be without his help to get out of his shell a little more. 

John’s parents are also over the moon when you tell them the news on your next visit, as is his sister Julie. She’s very similar to John and not as outwardly excited as her mother, but you know she’s just as pleased for you. She’s looking forward to getting to know you more, and opens up enough to tell you some silly childhood stories of her and John when their mother breaks out the old photo albums after dinner (much to John’s embarrassment, although he does retaliate with a few good stories of his own about her). It’s a wonderful evening, and both Julie and John’s mother tell you that if there’s anything you need for wedding planning, they’ll be happy to help out. 

Now there’s only one group of people that you still need to tell... your family. You’re already dreading how this conversation will go, but you know you have to tell them. “Do you have to go?” John asks over breakfast the morning of your visit. “Couldn’t you just call?” His tone of voice is slightly petulant, but you don’t begrudge him that when you’re feeling the exact same way about this. 

You finish the piece of toast you’re currently munching on before answering. “You know I have to. I’d never hear the end of it if I told them this kind of news over the phone instead of telling them directly.” John sighs and puts his hand over yours on the table, absently running his thumb over the engagement ring. “Just... be careful, alright? I wish I could be there with you. I don’t want them to try any more of that funny business with trying to ‘help’ you.”

“Oh, trust me, I don’t want to go any more than you want me to. But it has to be done,” you tell John resignedly, turning your hand over to hold his. “And honestly I wish you could come with me, just so I don’t have to do this alone. But I think it might be best for me to do this on my own; I don’t want to cause more tension than there already is. Besides, I’d like to hope that whatever problems my parents have with us, they’ll at least be happy that we want to commit and get married?”

John just raises an eyebrow and gives you a Look, showing that he clearly doesn’t share your attempt at optimism. You bite your lip, trying to keep your chin up for this visit. “Look, I’ll keep the visit short, and I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can. I don’t want to stay there any longer than I need to either, not after last time.”

“Good.” John leans over and kisses your temple before he starts gathering the dishes from the table. “I’ll let you get ready then; the sooner you go, the sooner you can come back.” He smiles cheekily at you as you roll your eyes.

You pull your jacket out from the closet and gather your things. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. I hope so, anyway.”

——

You could not have been more wrong. Despite your attempts at bolstering your self-confidence, you almost can’t do it. The visit is pleasant enough, but with an underlying level of tension. Your brothers seem oblivious to it, though, which is a slight comfort - it means they carry on as normal, and you all tease and bicker the way you always have. You don’t want to disrupt this, but you know it needs to be done, so you manage to muster up the courage to tell your parents that you have some news as lunch is being finished. Your mother looks a bit apprehensive, and asks if it’s something that should be told to the whole family. You hesitate a bit, because on one hand your brothers should know, but on the other hand, you need to get the hurdle of your parents out of the way first. You tell your mother that you’d rather it just be her and your father first, to which your parents just exchange glances before your father nods in agreement and sends the boys off to play in the garden once the dishes are cleared.

Then it’s just you alone with your parents again, and you can’t remember any other time that you’ve felt this tense except for your last disastrous visit. You’re still holding out a little hope that it might go well, when your mother starts: “I do hope this is good news, dear? Have you reconsidered the discussion we had last time you came?” You breathe deeply through your nose to try and calm your rising tension before you answer. “I have not.”

Your mother frowns at this, but tries again: “Then is it about John? Goodness, are you still seeing that boy? You know we still don’t approve-“ You cut her off, unable to take this any longer. “Yes, we’re still seeing each other.” Your father looks at you disapprovingly for your interruption, but you pay him no mind as you take a deep breath and steel yourself for what you now know will be the inevitable reaction when you break this news. “We’re still seeing each other... and we’re engaged.” You finish your sentence by holding up your hand, displaying the ring on your finger. 

Your mother’s face goes a shade of white you didn’t know was possible, while your father’s frown just deepens. They just stare at you for a moment and you end up breaking the incredibly tense silence. “...aren’t you going to say anything?”

Your father is the first one to snap out of his partial stupor, speaking in a low, disappointed tone. “You know our opinion of John. You know we don’t think he’s good for you, and yet you flagrantly disrespect your mother and I like this?”

Now it’s your turn to frown, staring evenly back at your father. “Am I not entitled to my own opinion? I’m an adult, Dad. I can make my own decision about who I want to marry.” Now your mother speaks up, looking incredibly sad. “We just think you’re making a big mistake, is all. He’s encouraging you and your unrealistic views of the world, and we don’t like seeing him poison your mind like this. You never used to be this headstrong.”

“Poisoning my mind? Headstrong?” You’re seething now. “John is not poisoning me; he’s been nothing but helpful and supportive. He’s kind and thoughtful, and he’s everything you used to tell me I should want in a man. Why won’t you accept that I’m happy with him? That he loves me enough to want to commit his life to me?” You’ll never admit it out loud, but you want them to say it to your face and outright confess that their real issue is that John’s ace. 

Your parents exchange glances again, and when they look back at you, your mother is the one to crack, unsurprisingly. “We just don’t like that he’s clearly operating under this shared delusion you both seem to have about being asexual.” She looks like she’s about to burst into tears at this declaration, and it’s all you can do not to roll your eyes. She thinks she’s having a hard time, having to deal with this? As it is, you can’t stop yourself from scoffing a bit at that statement. “Shared delusion? Mum, it’s a legitimate sexual preference. I’m not imagining anything about what I want, and neither is John.”

“Watch yourself,” your father snaps. “You may think this is all well and good, but scientifically there is no validity to your opinion. Being asexual is not how humans were designed, biologically. John is clearly encouraging these false claims, and is therefore just as culpable in this as we are.” You look slightly confused now. _Your parents blame themselves?_ He continues: “We must have failed you as parents in some way to see how you’ve gone so astray.” _And there lies the answer to the question._ You find yourself having to hold back another eye roll while you struggle to keep your voice even. “Dad, your parenting isn’t what caused this. You can’t ‘fix’ this with better parenting. This is just who I am.”

“And that’s not right!” your mother exclaims suddenly, actual tears in her eyes by now as she gets more worked up over this. “You shouldn’t be like this! You shouldn’t have to be. Please, get some help!” She’s pleading by now, thrusting another copy of the Chelmsford Institution pamphlet into your hands. _How many copies of this did they have?_ The pamphlet and their desperation to see you ‘fixed’ is the final straw for you: “I DON’T NEED **HELP**!” you cry out, standing up and backing away from your parents. “Can’t you see I’m happy the way I am? That I’m happy with John? Please, just let me have this and come to our wedding,” you beg, feeling tears of your own start to come to your eyes.

Your father shakes his head slowly, looking at you with a mixture of deep anger and sadness in his eyes. “We can’t accept or endorse this relationship. Not unless you agree to see a professional.” Your eyes narrow at that statement. “Can’t or _won’t_ , Dad? Why can’t you accept that I’m happy on my own terms?”

Your mother is openly bawling by this point, incredibly upset by this. “Now see what you’ve done,” your father chastises, rubbing your mother’s back as she sobs. Your eyes widen at this accusation. “What I’ve done? _What I’ve done?_ ” You’re starting to get pretty worked up yourself, and you just want to leave now. “What about what you’re doing to me, Dad? I just want to be happy and to have you both be happy for me! Is that too much to ask?”

“You’re not really happy though,” your mother cries from where she’s leaning into your father’s side and dabbing at her face with a handkerchief. “You think you are, but you won’t be. Not in the long run. You need to give up this fantasy, and find a man who’s better for your wellbeing. Not someone who’s just as wrapped up in these... psychotic delusions as you are and won’t let you get better.”

“But I don’t NEED to get better!” You want to scream, but it comes out more as a pained whisper. “And neither of us is psychotic! I just want to be happy, and clearly neither of you can see that.” You hold yourself up as straight as you possibly can, trying to maintain what dignity you have left. “If you can’t accept that, then I’m sorry. But like it or not, I’m marrying John. I want you there to share that with me, but I’m assuming you won’t be?” Your father just shakes his head angrily. “If you can’t do us the courtesy of seeing to your own mental health, then we can’t support this. Not in good conscience.” You look over at your mother, but she just starts sobbing some more and won’t look at you anymore.

“Alright. If that’s the way it is, then I suppose there’ll be no changing your minds.” You glance back at the Chelmsford pamphlet you’re somehow still holding. “Just as there won’t be any changing mine.” You drop the pamphlet on the table and walk away, gathering your things. You don’t spare a look back as you leave the house, your own tears filling your eyes; you’re too heartbroken to. 

——

When you get back home, John is out and you take advantage of this to just flop facedown onto the bed and have a good cry. Why can’t your parents just accept you, or at least push their opinions aside to share your wedding with you? You get caught up in your thoughts and you think you may have fallen into a fitful doze at one point, but it’s not restful and you barely make an effort to leave where you’re despondently curled up in bed, hugging John’s pillow close to you. When John comes home later, this is how he finds you, and he wastes no time rushing over to hold you close and whisper reassuring nonsense as he rubs your back. 

You don’t want to tell him all the ugly news about your visit, but it comes out anyway, making you cry all over again. For his part, John just sits there holding you and just listens; the only giveaway to his mood is the way his arms subtly tighten around you when you mention the demand to get help, and a small clench of his jaw when you use the word “psychotic”. “...so they refuse to come to the wedding,” you finish, leaning your head on John’s shoulder and trying to clear the last few tears from your eyes. “I guess I should have seen this coming, but I really just wanted to believe that they might look aside for this. Is that naive of me?”

“Of course not,” John reassures. “They’re your parents. You want to see the best in them, and that’s not wrong. It’s just a shame that they can’t see past their own hang ups about people that are different from them. Maybe it’s for the best that they won’t come to the wedding, though?” You just look at him in confusion, not entirely sure what he’s trying to get at. “They might have come just to cause a scene,” he clarifies, tilting his head slightly in thought. “After all, they don’t approve of us and our ‘degenerate ways’,” he wiggles his eyebrows and smirks as he speaks, “and we’re committing the ultimate sin in their eyes; proving that they’re wrong and people can be happy without agreeing with them.”

“True,” you agree after a moment. “The last thing I want is for them to ruin our day. Besides, we’ll have Freddie and Rog there, and that’s about the only thing that could possibly irritate them more than us getting married.” John lets out a small laugh in surprise at that remark. “Yeah, probably.”

You continue: “They might try to set me up with Bri too, knowing our luck. _‘Look at this nice young man, dear! So well-educated, and straight as an arrow to boot!’_ ” You mock your mother’s voice as you speak, laughing more at the thought. “Never mind that it’s our wedding day, she’d still think she could pair me off at the last minute and change my ‘unnatural behaviour’.” John laughs too, but you can see a small frown there as he clearly considers the possibility. “Oh come off it, silly!” You turn your head to face him better and kiss his cheek. “I don’t want to marry Bri. I’m marrying you and no one else.” John smiles at that, leaning his head on yours and linking his hand with yours where they rest on top of your leg.

There’s a moment of silence where you just bask in the closeness, enjoying the feeling of John’s arms around you, before a thought occurs to you. “I suppose I’ll need someone to walk me down the aisle then. Seeing as my dad clearly won’t be doing it.” John hums in agreement. “Yeah, you will. Any ideas?”

You tilt your head to face John a bit better. “Maybe one of the guys in the band? I mean, I’ve known you all for a while, and Freddie and Rog even longer than you and Bri. There’s no one else I could think of that’d be more fitting to do it.” John nods. “That makes sense. You going to ask Freddie, then?”

“Actually, I was thinking of Roger.” You don’t need to see John’s face to know he’s frowning. “Really? I thought you and Fred were closer?” You sit up and turn to look at John, who’s got his eyebrows furrowed as he tries to figure out your reasoning. “Freddie’s one of my best friends, but Rog is honestly kind of like the older brother I never had. He’s always had an eye out for me, and has definitely sent a couple of unwanted dates packing on my behalf. Plus, he’s always understood my issues with my family. Not that you, Fred, and Bri don’t, but you’ve all got reasonably good relationships with your families. You won’t ever fully understand what that’s like to struggle with your parents, but Rog does. I won’t say any more than that on the subject because that’s not my story to tell, but I think he’d be the one I’d ask.” You frown now. “Of course, this means he’ll ask why. I haven’t told him or Bri bout being ace yet.”

“You could just say your parents aren’t able to come?” John lies back on the bed, arms behind his head as he thinks. You shake your head in response before folding your arms across your chest. “No, that won’t work. He’ll know, trust me. Damnit, I didn’t want to have to tell him like this.”

“Seems like you rather have to, though? If he knows you that well enough to see through other excuses about your parents.” John shrugs. “It’s not ideal, but it is what it is.”

“I know. I just... I didn’t want to mess things up. Freddie knows, but Freddie’s also so unconventional that nothing fazes him. Bri and Rog, though, I didn’t want to make myself more the oddball than I already was in the group. And I know you don’t want to tell them about you, so...” You sigh, then grimace slightly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to make it sound like it’s your fault I haven’t told them about me.”

“I know.” John pushes himself up from his reclined position and takes your hand in his, also frowning a little. “I just don’t feel like it’s theirs or anyone’s business what we do, or rather _don’t_ do, in the privacy of our home. As far as I’m concerned, some things should be personal. But if you want to tell them about you, then I won’t stop you.”

“I know I can’t force you, but I wish you’d reconsider,” you plead slightly. “I just don’t want to be the only one in their eyes. You know once I tell them they’ll look at me differently. They already think I’m slightly odd for barely showing any interest in doing anything sexual, and that’s just going to get worse when I tell them I have a _label_ for it.”

“And you know they’ll give me the same looks if I say anything, and if anything it’ll make things uncomfortable with the band. I’m still trying to fit in with their close-knit group, even now, and they’ll have more reason to not let me in. As well, Rog is studying Bio - he’ll have _questions_. And that’s the last thing I want; to start dealing with his prying into my private life.” John just looks at you levelly, not backing down. 

“As though he won’t have the same questions for me? You make it sound like their interactions with you exist in a vacuum. And besides, you really think Rog won’t try to wheedle out some answers if he thinks you - an assumed ‘straight’ - have been going out with and are marrying someone who wants vastly different things than you?” you point out, getting frustrated by now. You’re trying not to snap and direct your frustration at John because you know he’s not the real culprit here, but the thought of being alone to fend with Brian’s and Roger’s sometimes tactless fascination with certain topics is enough to put you slightly on edge. 

“Christ.” John’s got his head in his hands now, groaning. “This is going to end up forcing my hand whether I want it to or not, it seems.” He looks distinctly unhappy when he raises his head, and all you can do is offer an apologetic shrug. “I’m sorry, Deaky. I know you don’t want to tell them, and believe me, I don’t want to force you to either. But I really think we both have to tell them; it’s going to come up at some point while we plan for this, regardless of whether you or I ask them to be involved with the wedding. At least this way, we can set some ground rules for them and what we let them ask about it? Maintain what we can of our privacy. I’m sure they’d respect that.”

“Possibly.” John still looks unhappy, but promises to think over the matter at least. You try to convince yourself it’s better than nothing, but you’re pretty certain neither of you sleeps well that night.

——

You decide to tell the others sooner than later; might as well rip off the plaster now and get it over with. You and John have discussed how you’ll tell them, what you’ll tell them and what you won’t, and now you’re both just waiting in the band’s rehearsal space for the others to show up. Roger is the first to arrive, practically dragging a clearly disgruntled Brian along as he races over towards the sofa you and John have seated yourselves on to wait. “Calm down Rog,” Brian grumbles. “Fred’s not even here yet, and I assume they’d rather wait until he arrives to tell us whatever their news is.” At your nod of agreement, Brian just glares at Roger. “I told you you could have left me to read a little while longer.” He pulls out the book he’s carrying and finds a corner to settle down to clearly go back to reading until he’s needed. 

Roger just shrugs, unrepentant as he crams himself onto the sofa beside you, practically on your lap. He then proceeds to ignore all of yours and John’s protests as he lies himself down over both of your laps with a cheeky grin. “So, how’s the happy couple?”

“We _were_ fine up until 30 seconds ago,” John mutters as he attempts to shove Roger away. “Get off, Rog.” That only makes Roger grin wider and settle in more thoroughly. “Nah, think I’ll wait here for Fred. You make a fantastic pillow, Deaks.” John looks so put out by Roger’s behaviour that you’re having a hard time stifling your laughter as Roger moves around to make himself more comfortable at John’s expense.

Twenty minutes later, Freddie sashays through the door, taking in the scene of Brian ignoring everyone as he reads his book, and Roger sprawled all over you and John, who has long since given up trying to make Roger move. “Hello darlings! Sorry to make you all wait!”

“Fucking finally,” John gripes mildly. “Now you can get your bony arse off me, Rog.” Roger just opens one eye from where he’s been resting. “It is _not_ bony!” He sounds affronted by the suggestion. “And anyway, it’s on your fiancée’s lap, not yours.” He grins again, closing his eye and clearly has no intent to move. You exchange a look with John, and with a silent count of three, you both shove Roger simultaneously, making him topple to the floor. “OI!”

John just smirks in satisfaction as Freddie approaches to sit on the arm of the sofa, laughing at the antics taking place. “Well, it seems as though I’ve been missing all the fun! How dare you get started without me,” he mock-chides you, winking. Then his face turns more serious as he asks, “So what’s this news you both wanted to tell us?”

You and John both exchange a glance at each other, and John squeezes your hand gently where they’ve been linked together between you two. Brian’s put his book away and come closer, Roger has pulled himself up into a slightly more dignified sitting position on the floor, and Freddie’s just watching you both from his position on the arm of the couch. You take a deep breath to steel yourself. “We found out last week that my parents refuse to come to the wedding.” There’s a collective cry of disbelief and outrage from Brian and Roger, clamouring about how terrible that is. Freddie, for his part, just looks at you knowingly. You haven’t told him everything about your family, but he knows enough to know where this is going. 

When they’ve settled back down, you continue hesitatingly: “...they won’t come because they don’t like that I’m asexual.” You duck your head down after that statement, not able to meet anyone’s eyes. The room is silent, and Freddie puts a supportive hand on your shoulder. You look up gratefully, and he smiles reassuringly back at you. You look over at Roger and Brian to see them frowning slightly though, and your stomach does an odd turn. What if they’re angry? What if they reject you? Then you feel John’s hold on your hand become a vice grip, the only thing betraying his tension as he speaks up: “What she means is that they don’t like that _we’re_ asexual.” 

And with that, the atmosphere of the room changes. You look over at Freddie to see him openly gaping, and Brian and Roger’s joint expressions of surprise have escalated to full-blown shock. Roger is the first to speak up. “You what? But that’s just for plants and bacteria, innit?” He scratches his head in confusion before poking his tongue out. “Not like you can reproduce by dividing yourself.”

“That’s a different kind of asexuality, Rog.” You humour his terrible joke, knowing bio textbooks and schools refuse to teach about anything that deviates from ‘standard’ heterosexual relationships, so it’s not his fault he’s not better-informed. You can sense John getting more tense beside you as you both know that next there’s going to be questions; ones that John doesn’t want asked nor that he wants to answer. “So... what does that mean exactly?” Brian asks, curious. “Yeah, do you... uh... not feel like a girl or something?” Roger asks you, before turning to John. “Or guy?”

At that, John stands up abruptly, shooting you an apologetic look before mumbling that he needs to go for a walk and all but running out of the room. Freddie murmurs a brief “oh dear” before he takes off after John, making you feel slightly better that he won’t let John be alone to internalize things. Besides, after the look Freddie was giving John at his confession of his sexuality, you figure they most likely have a bit to talk about themselves. 

You turn back to Brian and Roger, who have since moved a bit closer (perhaps in fear that you’ll also take off?) and decide that you should answer their basic questions. Now that the cat’s out of the bag, they should know a little about it, but you still won’t tell them much about your actual relationship. “No Rog... that’s not it at all.” You sigh, trying to make them understand. “I feel just as girly as... I dunno. Daisies. Fancy dress tea parties. Audrey Hepburn. Whatever it is that people most often find girly.” You wave a hand as you speak. “It just means I’m not interested in sex.”

Brian’s silent, taking this all in while Roger leans forward. “And how does that work with Deaky? ‘Men only want one thing’, after all.” He wiggles his eyebrows salaciously until Brian cuffs him on the back of the head. “Ow.” You just laugh a bit, the tension breaking. “Not Deaky. He’s okay with it, same as I am. I’m sure you’re well aware that you can have sex without love,” you watch as Roger nods in agreement before continuing, “in the same regard, you can have it the other way around. That’s what we have, and we’re happy with that.”

Roger seems like he’s understanding it more, but that doesn’t stop him from saying: “I think I’m far too much of a caveman to do that, I’m afraid. So the two of you.... you mean you’ve _never_...? All this time? Do you even see each other undressed? Or is it all Puritanical bedwear for you both?” Now it’s your turn to swat his arm as you go red. “I am _not_ answering that, Rog.” Brian’s rolling his eyes at Roger’s lack of tact, but you’re sure he probably has questions as well. “And you, Bri? Got any burning questions to get off your chest while we’re at it?” you add dryly as Roger rubs exaggeratedly at the spot you’ve hit.

Brian looks thoughtful as he considers your question. “Not really; you’ve made it pretty clear. Is there anything we should know about what you’re comfortable with, though? I know _some of us_ can get rather carried away with tales of his exploits.” He gives Roger a pointed look before turning back to you. You shake your head in response. “Just... don’t treat me any differently? I’m still the same person. I’ll still make just as many dirty jokes and innuendos as I always do. I’ll still come to as many shows as I can, and lose terribly to you all at Scrabble. Nothing should be different. And on that note, please don’t treat John any differently? He didn’t want to say anything for that very reason.” They both nod, but before either of them can say anything you add on: “and whatever you do, don’t ask him about _that_ aspect of our relationship. He’d like his privacy, as would I.”

Brian nods again, but you can sense a slight bit of disappointment from Rog as you deprive him of any particularly good stories he thinks you might have of the two of you. Brian asks if you need anything else from him, and when you tell him no, he goes back to the corner he was sitting in earlier and ensconces himself in his book again. Freddie still hasn’t come back from wherever he and John have gone, so you’re left sitting with Roger. He picks himself up off the floor and moves onto the sofa next to you, occupying John’s vacated spot. 

When he speaks next, his voice is softer as he angles himself to face you. “Is that why you’ve had so many fights with your parents? Not just the uni thing?” You nod slightly, tensing up slightly at the thought of all those memories. Seeing you tense up, Roger wraps an arm around you. It’s nowhere near the same as John’s embraces, but it’s comforting nonetheless. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he still keeps his voice low as he speaks, “but then again, where would the two of us be right now if not for shit parents?” You laugh bitterly at that, as does he. “Where would we be indeed, Rog,” you murmur. “Even after all that, I still can’t believe they rejected my wedding, of all things. I suppose there’s no changing people that are set in their ways, though.”

“Not really, no,” Roger agrees. He thinks for a moment, then speaks up again: “Y’know, if you need someone to walk you down the aisle on your day, I’ll do it. If you want, that is,” he adds on hastily after. “I mean, I’m not your dad, or anything close, but I just thought you might need someone and I don’t know if you have someone else in mind and oh God I should shut up already.” You can’t help but laugh at his awkward rambling. “I’d be delighted, Rog. I think that’s incredibly thoughtful of you to offer; I was actually going to ask you myself, but you beat me to it!”

“Oh really?” He preens a bit before speaking up louder, all confidence returned to his demeanour. “You, my dear, have excellent taste. Oi! Brian! She wants _me_ to walk her down the aisle at the wedding!” Brian just looks up briefly from his book, barely acknowledging what Roger is attempting to rub in his face. “Hmmm? That’s nice, Rog.”

“Eh.” Roger waves a hand dismissively. “I’ll remind him later that you picked me instead of him. You gonna have Bri and Fred do anything for the wedding then?” You nod, happy to move on to a more pleasant topic of conversation. “I think John’s planning on asking Freddie to be his Best Man, actually.” Roger grins in response. “Fitting, given how Freddie’s always looked out for Deaky the most. Honestly sometimes I swear the man is more like Deaky’s mum than the real thing.” He wipes away a nonexistent tear from his eye and laments in a mock-woman’s voice. “ _‘My little boy’s all grown up!’_ “ You giggle at that, having witnessed Freddie’s mother-henning John on more than one occasion. Roger continues on: “You just need something for Bri, now.” He taps his chin thoughtfully, then snaps his fingers in a flash of inspiration. “I’ve got it! Bri can be your flower boy.”

“I heard that, and no.” 

You and Roger look up to see Brian giving you the most dead-eyed unimpressed stare from his corner, and you both break out into a fit of giggles. “But Bri, you’d look so _good_ in a flower crown! Scattering rose petals down the aisle,” you get out between laughs. “I’m sure we can even find you a beautiful flower girl dress for the occasion,” Roger adds cheekily, grinning even wider as Brian gives him a two-fingered salute before going back to his book. 

When your laughter has subsided, you turn back to Brian. “Joking aside Bri, I did want to ask you about being involved with the wedding. I wondered if you might be our photographer?” Brian looks up at that, considering, as you continue. “You always take such nice photos, and you seem to have a good eye for it. I can’t think of anyone more fitting to ask.” Brian goes a bit red at the compliment before nodding. “I would love to.” He thinks for a moment, then his face lights up. “Do you want regular pictures? Or stereo? I’ve just gotten a newer camera lately and I think I could get some really nice stereo pictures at your wedding. If you’d like, of course.”

“That sounds fantastic!” You clap your hands excitedly before getting off the sofa to rush over and give Brian an awkward hug where he’s still sitting on the floor. “I’m sure whatever kinds of photos you take will be amazing, Bri. Oh, I’m so glad!” Not wanting to be left out, Roger comes over and drapes himself on top of Brian as well.

Just then, John and Freddie re-enter the room, and laugh at the sight of Brian sitting there helplessly as you and Roger just sit there on either side hugging him. You notice that John looks less tense, and assume that whatever they talked about while they were away was good. Eventually you have to let Brian and Roger up so the band can rehearse, and you spend the rest of the afternoon making faces at Roger (and he makes them back at you) and watching John blush whenever you catch him gazing at you lovingly.

——

The months fly by after that in a veritable whirlwind of wedding planning, dress fittings, decisions being made and money being scraped out of God-knows-where to pay for everything. The band is busy, having released their first album (John is pleased as punch when he brings a copy of it home to show you, although he doesn’t appreciate the fact that they chose to credit him as ‘Deacon John’ to “be more interesting”) and already working on their second one, but they still manage to make time to all assist you and John wherever possible. You really appreciate it all, because you don’t have your own family to help with these things, and while John’s mother and Julie are very helpful, they’re also not local so you can’t see them for help as often as the band (although John’s mother always reminds you that they’re only a phone call away if needed).

You and John collectively decide that it’ll just be a small affair; the band + their families, a couple of friends from uni, and John’s family. You wish you could invite at least some of your older brothers who could travel on their own, but they’re busy with their own studies and you don’t want to get between them and your parents. You also don’t want to run the risk of giving your parents another reason to be upset with you. 

As the date draws closer, you find yourself getting nervous. Not because of regret, but because you can’t believe how soon this is actually going to become real, and you’re terrified of messing things up on the day of. John admits that he’s nervous too though, which makes you feel slightly comforted that it’s not just you feeling this way. You suspect that it has to do with the fact that neither of you will be in your element while being the centre of attention; put a bass in John’s hands and Chinese Tang Dynasty lecture notes in yours and you’d both be completely fine. But being up in front of others without that protective shield? Absolutely frightening, and you try not to think about it as best you can. 

Neither you nor John is particularly religious, despite both being brought up in churchgoing families, so you really have no preference as to where the ceremony is performed. You initially nod and agree to John’s mother requesting a Church of England wedding, but had no real idea of the full scale that this would entail when you tell John about this. It turns out that CoE weddings are a lot more elaborate than you anticipated, and you manage to make some small changes (removing some non-mandatory readings and such) to try and shorten the service. Still, you can tell that both you and John are feeling incredibly awkward when you run through the rehearsal, and the only thing holding you together is the fact that it’ll all be over soon. 

You end up spending the night before the wedding and next morning at Mich’s, getting ready for the wedding with her and a few of your uni friends. You can’t seem to stop fidgeting, making it hard for your friend Paola as she tries to style your hair and she has to poke you a few times to tell you to stop before she accidentally burns you with a curling iron. The threat of injury helps to settle you down a little, but now you’re just internalizing everything. Mich says that she should bring her tarantula Leonardo out to give you something else to focus on, but you can already see how disastrous that might end up being. Still, you appreciate the thought. Your other friends Liv, Em, and Pat joke that it would be funny to sneak the tarantula into the church, just for the entertainment of John’s reaction. You can’t help but laugh at that image, but remind them that they’d probably be made to leave immediately for ‘desecrating the ceremony’ or something similar. 

Sooner than anticipated, it’s time to head to the church. Upon arrival, you’re greeted by Freddie and Roger while your friends go inside to find their seats. Mich and Freddie both fuss over your dress for a bit, trying to fix any wrinkles or perceived blemishes before they go to take their places and wait for your entrance. You think you catch a glimpse of tears in Freddie’s eyes as he turns to enter the church, but he ducks his head away before you can really tell and denies it when you ask. 

Now it’s just you and Roger waiting for your cue, and you’re fruitlessly trying to ease your nerves before you have to walk in to the actual wedding ceremony. Roger has left your side to take a look at the table that has been set up with the guestbook and photos of both your parents and John’s flanking it. You’re still trying to distract yourself when you turn around a minute later to see Roger leaving from his examination of the table with a smirk on his face, and at first you wonder if he’s written something obscene in the guestbook. However, upon closer inspection of the table, you see that Roger has sellotaped disproportionately large printouts of the faces of Ming the Merciless and Azura the Witch Queen overtop of your parents, making the bodies look comedically small by comparison and you have to stifle the laughter that bubbles up at the sight. Roger’s smirk just grows at the sight of you laughing and for once you’re not thinking about your wedding jitters as you take your positions. When you hear the music for the processional start to play a minute later, you’re still having a hard time trying to control your facial expression as you begin the walk down the aisle. 

You try to ignore Brian doing his job taking photos as you walk (which is a lot harder than you thought it would be), and focus instead on John. He’s waiting for you at the altar with a brighter happier smile than you’ve ever seen on his face, and you catch him swiping hastily at his eyes as you approach. You can’t seem to stop smiling either at how handsome and sharp he looks in his suit, and you hope that you don’t start to cry as well, as that’ll ruin the hard work you did on your makeup. The vicar begins the service and you’re really having a hard time taking this all in, that this is real and finally happening. Your voice shakes a little as you recite your vows, but John’s hand gently holding yours helps to keep you grounded. John’s voice remains remarkably steady as he recites his, but you feel him squeeze your hand a little more tightly and you know he’s just as nervous too. 

Freddie hands off the rings to the vicar and after they’ve been blessed, you and John put them on each other’s hands. John fumbles a little with yours, but recovers quickly and manages to not drop it. You tune out the Bible reading that the vicar delivers afterward, too distracted by the sight of the matching new gold bands on yours and John’s hands, the fact that John can’t seem to take his eyes off you, and that Freddie is _definitely_ tearing up now as well (but trying valiantly to hide it). You make a note to ask Brian later if he’s managed to catch that in any of his photos. 

The signing of the registry takes far longer than you thought it would; honestly, why does no one ever warn about things like this? You eventually finish your part, and you take a moment to enjoy the organ music while John fills out his part and Freddie and Mich sign as witnesses. Then it’s back to the altar for the final prayers and blessing, and practice most certainly did _not_ help you prepare for how awkward it is to kneel in a wedding dress. John’s right there by your side helping to steady you though, which helps somewhat, but it doesn’t make it any less of an ordeal and you may or may not mutter under your breath about terrible dress designs while John attempts to disguise a chuckle as a cough. 

After the blessing and managing to somehow stand back up semi-gracefully without tripping, the service is finally complete and you and John leave the church hand in hand to the sounds of cheering and applause from the congregation. You catch a glimpse of John’s mother dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, and anyone you manage to make eye contact with is absolutely ecstatic. When you’ve finished the walk to the door and you wait for the others to catch up for the inevitable confetti throwing, you take a moment to enjoy the brief silence with just the two of you (plus Brian, who’s checking one of his cameras awkwardly as he tries to fade into the background and give you some privacy). “Feels surreal, doesn’t it?” you murmur to John, still unable to stop smiling. “It’s actually real. We’re actually married. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up sometime. Pinch me to check, won’t you?”

John just laughs. “I’m not going to do that, but I know what you mean.” His gaze drops to where your hands are still linked, admiring the wedding band on your finger. “Mr. and Mrs. Deacon; I quite like the sound of that, don’t you?” He lifts his eyes back to your face, still beaming that warm smile at you as his eyes crinkle at the edges, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt happier or more content than you do right now. 

“I really do.” You’re watching the door, trying to gauge how much more time you have before the guests exit and you’re swept up in more wedding activities. “Think we can just run away now and let them do what they want? We got the important part done,” you tease.

John shakes his head mournfully. “Unfortunately not, although I do wish it was possible to just slip away. Just go home and be together.”

The door opens then, forestalling any more conversation about running away as the guests pour out to flank the walkway to the street in preparation for tossing confetti at you both. “Well, too late now,” you whisper, leaning into John’s ear. You see them watching you and Brian with a camera poised, ready to get a shot of your first kiss as a married couple. “Might as well give the people what they want,” John jokes as you turn to face each other and he leans in to kiss you. As usual, it’s not a deep passionate kiss, but this one does last longer than normal to give Brian the chance to get a decent photo. As you pull away, you hear hooting and hollering from your friends as well as Freddie and Roger, and applause from everyone watching as you begin the trek down the path, both of you ducking your heads slightly to avoid getting confetti in your faces. 

The rest of the day is a bit of a blur, posing for seemingly endless photos, attending a small reception dinner that you really don’t remember eating much of, cutting cake that you’re certain you didn’t have any of, and probably slightly more champagne than you should have on a mostly empty stomach. You don’t recall much of the reception besides your first dance with John, both of you trying valiantly to remember the dance steps you had to learn for this (the champagne has not done John any favours either). The alcohol has definitely relaxed you both somewhat though, and after a bit of dancing, you’re both just content to sit together and watch everyone else enjoying themselves. You’re never truly on your own, as people keep stopping by to congratulate you both, and you’re happy to have some small conversations while you both wait for an appropriate time to slip away. 

Just then, you’re approached by a more-than-slightly tipsy Roger. “Lovely party, innit?” He’s speaking a little too loudly, and you wince and gesture at him to lower the volume. “Sorry. Just been having a great time getting to know some of your uni friends.” He plonks himself down into a chair beside you and wiggles his eyebrows lasciviously. “I plan on having some fun tonight.”

John grimaces. “Spare us the details, if you don’t mind. Or at least get me more alcohol. I’m not drunk enough to hear any of that.”

“Oh, come off it, Deaky!” Roger leans in conspiratorially and speaks in a stage whisper. “After all, if not you two, someone might as well have a good shag tonight. I’m just making up for your lack of interest.”

“Shut _up_ , Rog.” John hisses, unamused. “Someone’ll hear.”

Roger waves a hand dismissively. “As if anyone cares. Fred says he said the same thing to your lovely wife ages ago anyway. There’s a fine balance for sex in the world, and he and I are merely restoring it.” Roger’s trying to sound formal, but the effect is ruined by him half-slurring his words and slumping forward onto a table when he finishes his sentence.

John has his head in his hands by this point. “Jesus Christ, Rog. How much have you had to drink?”

Roger lifts his head off the table briefly, considering the question. “Dunno. Lost count after seven.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” John repeats, groaning. He turns back to Roger, a slightly pleading note in his voice. “Just... stop talking about our sex life. It’s nobody’s business, and I don’t need you nattering on about it to anyone. Not tonight. Not ever.”

“Of course not!” Roger sits back up, sounding surprisingly more sober than he did a moment ago. “I would never, Deaky. I hope you know that. I only brought it up to you because I figured you should know.” He winks to punctuate his sentence before he stands again, claps John on the shoulder and walks off, presumably to find his conquest for the evening. 

When he leaves, John turns back to you where you’ve just been watching the proceedings, a look of mixed amusement and mild disgust on your face. “I think I’m done for the evening, don’t you?”

“I think so too. Let’s go have me toss the bouquet and we can make our escape.” You grin. 

Once you’ve both said a quick thanks and farewell, you take care of the toss, and while Liv is crowing over her triumph at catching it, you and John quietly slip out. You’re almost at the car when you hear a voice call out for you. John mutters a curse at not being able to just leave in peace, and you both turn to see it’s Freddie approaching. Before you realize it, he’s pulled you both into a tight hug as he starts to speak.

“I didn’t get a chance to speak to you properly earlier, but I want you to know just how happy I am for you, and how proud I am. I wish more relationships looked like yours; that level of trust and confidence is hard to find, and I really am so glad that you’re able to lean on each other. God knows it’s not easy living contrary to what society expects, and I know it hasn’t been easy getting to where you are now, but you two have each other and I believe that as long as you continue to support each other the way you have been all this time, you’ll always be happy.” Freddie sniffles a little, but you make no mention of it and just let him hug you both tighter. “You’ll always have my support. Congratulations once again.”

“Thanks, Freddie,” John addresses him with a smile while you’re just overcome with emotion at the heartfelt speech. Eventually you find your voice and manage to thank Freddie as well, before you both get in the car to leave. You watch as Freddie stands by the curb waving you off, and wait until he’s disappeared in the distance before you turn back to John, resting your hand on his leg as he drives. This is the start to a new chapter in your lives, and you look forward to seeing where it takes you.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also @smittyjaws on Tumblr, if you want to hit up my dumpster fire of a blog!


End file.
